


Mint Chocolate Chip

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:13:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once an aspiring law student, Sam changed career paths and opened a coffee shop near campus that caters to college students - specifically, one Kevin Tran, who is a senior working on his thesis. [Sam/Kevin with eventual background Dean/Cas]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mint Chocolate Chip

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a ficlet for the Seven Days of Sevin challenge on Tumblr. It's gotten a lot longer since then! Thanks to the wonderful ladies who helped me with this - Elise, Aria, Dani, and Ashley. Without them, this would still be rotting on my hard drive.  
> Disclaimer! I don't own anything that you recognize, nor do I claim to be an expert on anything.

When Sam met Kevin, it wasn’t under the best of circumstances. It was getting late on a Friday night – and cold, too, reminding Sam forcefully that winter wasn’t over yet – and he was tired. Half asleep on his feet tired. His employee, Andy – sweetheart that he usually was – had called in sick, which Sam suspected had more to do with finals next week than actual illness, but he let it slide. He remembered pulling plenty of all-nighters during his time in college, and they weren’t fond memories.

He was apologizing profusely to a regular whose drink he had dropped when the door opened. He hardly noticed – the woman’s coffee was so fussy, and now he’d have to make it _again_. He didn’t even like her. She often came in near closing time and flirted with him uncomfortably, but with the economy in the gutter, every patron counted and regulars were especially important. He really didn’t want to piss her off.

“Be with you in a minute,” he muttered breathlessly to the new arrival, a dark-haired young man that had come to stand behind her. Sam hardly even looked at him, instead glancing at the clock as he hastily mopped up the mess and started her stupid fussy drink for the second time. How long until he could close, already?

When he had finally scrawled ‘Becky’ on the cup and sent the woman on her way, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and turned to the young man with a harried smile.

“Hi there,” he greeted him. “Sorry about the wait.”

“It’s no problem,” he answered. “I’m not in any hurry. You look pretty stressed out.”

Sam laughed hollowly. “Yeah, it’s been a busy week. What can I get for you?”

“Something with a lot of caffeine,” said the other man decisively. “I don’t know. I don’t drink a lot of coffee.”

This time, Sam’s laugh was genuine. “Why start now? Let me guess...finals coming up?”

“How did you know?” The young man looked bewildered. Sam just winked at him, and then was surprised at himself. Making friend with the customers was important, but that was more Dean-like behavior. “Never mind. Yeah, I’m working on my senior thesis and it’s due soon.”

“Mind if I surprise you, since you don’t have anything specific in mind?” Sam was already trying to figure out what this guy might like to drink, and when he received a nod of consent, he sprang into action. As he mixed, he asked, “So, what’s your major?”

“Double major,” came the answer. “Political and environmental sciences.”

“No way,” said Sam, popping the lid onto the steaming hot drink. “I was pre-law. By the way, what name am I writing on the cup?”

“Kevin,” said Kevin, blinking at him. “But I’m the only one in the shop....”

“So?” retorted Sam, grinning. “Now you can take a picture of your drink and broadcast your late night study session to all your Facebook friends.”

Kevin snorted. “Why did you open a business instead of going into law?” he asked. Sheepishly, he added. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” answered Sam easily. “I decided to major in pre-law when I was eighteen and it seemed like the thing to do. Some stuff happened, and I got a less rose-tinted view of our judicial system, and realized that I didn’t want any part in it. I’d rather be my own boss than be slave to a corporation anyways, you know?”

After pausing for a beat, Sam continued. “So, I’m intrigued, tell me. What’s your thesis about?”

Kevin blushed, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s, uh, well, it’s about the politics of environmental law ad how many environmentally based political initiatives are more for the benefit of the lawmakers than the environment. Take, for instance, banning plastic bags in favor of paper.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that going into effect here soon?” he asked, and Kevin nodded. “This summer,” he confirmed.

“Well,” said Sam. “It’s finally time for me to close this place up and go home and sleep until next week. But good luck on your paper. I want to read it when you’re done, okay? Come back. And not just so I can sell you more coffee.” With that, he smiled wryly, moving to untie his apron and shrug it off.

“Sure,” said Kevin, reaching for his forgotten drink. “I could use a second opinion before I hand it in, anyways.”

“Let me give you my email, then,” replied Sam, pulling some paper from the register and jotting down the address. “I’d be happy to read it, or whatever you need.”

“Awesome. Thank you.” Kevin pocketed the paper with his free hand. “I’ll get out of your hair so you can go home. Good night!”

He waved, and the bell jingled as the door shut behind him, leaving Sam alone in the shop. He quickly flipped the sign to ‘closed’ and locked the door. He cleaned up in record time, needing to get home and sleep as soon as possible. As he wiped down the counters and balanced the register, he thought about Kevin. There was something about him – Sam hoped he’d come back, or email, at least. He only forgot about it when he got home and dragged himself to bed, falling asleep easily.

Despite what he’d said to Kevin the night before, Sam only slept until ten. He woke up naturally, and basked in the fact that he didn’t have to get up right away. Instead, he reached for a book and stayed in bed reading until hunger drove him to the kitchen in search of breakfast. He missed living with Dean for a moment – Dean would have whipped up some scrambled eggs and maybe some bacon – and rummaged around in his cupboards until he found the cereal. He frowned at his milk, which was nearly expired. He needed to go shopping, and soon.

For all that he sold coffee, Sam wasn’t a coffee drinker, so instead he inhaled three bowls of cereal in hopes of getting himself going. He wasn’t a morning person, either – he was so glad he’d found Ava. She loved the morning shift. Sam had no idea how she was cheerful at five in the morning, and for that, she was worth her weight in gold. Or something more valuable.

He shuffled into the living room and flipped open his laptop, lazily scanning through his email. Newsletters he didn’t read anymore and advertisements were deleted indiscriminately, but his mouse paused over a message from one “Kevin Tran” before he clicked on it.

_Dear Sam,  
This is Kevin, who you met at your shop last night. I hope you were serious about wanting to help me with my paper – I’m still working on it, but there’s a section that just isn’t working for me. It’s only a page and a half long, but I don’t think I’m getting my point across very clearly or connecting my research to my argument effectively. Would you mind taking a look?_

_Thanks so much. I hope you’re enjoying your weekend.  
-Kevin_

 

Wow, that was fast, Sam thought. He had half expected not to hear from Kevin at all, but he really was interested in the paper he was working on. The section Kevin had mentioned was attached to the email, and Sam laughed when he saw that the document was titled “you fucking piece of shit.” He’d guess that Kevin had forgotten to change it before he shared it with someone, but Sam couldn’t blame him. Completed drafts and works in progress littered his writing folder with titles based on every variation on the f word he could think of.

Eagerly, he opened the document, curbing his annoyance at how slow his laptop was while he waited for it to load. The first time through, he skimmed it, noticing that Kevin was right about the big picture issues he had mentioned in his email. It felt like there were several mini-essays within the selection that worked well on their own, but the overall theme wasn’t cohesive. On his second read-through, Sam added some comments in the margins, recommending some revisions to word choice and a few things to add to each section to maintain the connection back to his thesis. Kevin was generally a wonderful writer – concise but articulate.

Sam saved the modified document and returned to his email to answer Kevin.

_Hey Kevin –  
I read your paper and made a few comments – document attached. For the most part, it’s really great. I just pointed out a few things you could tighten up and expand on to unify the whole section. Don’t worry about it, your paper is going to be great.  
-Sam _

After rereading the message to himself, he hit send and leaned back onto the couch, satisfied. Just then, his phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hey, Sammy.” It’s Dean. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Not a whole lot,” Sam replied, wondering what Dean wanted. Occasionally he called just to talk, but for the most part, he called when he had something going. “What’s up with you?”

“Not much,” said Dean. “Just gettin’ some of the boys from the fire house together for dinner tonight and wondering if you wanted to come. I know how much you like cooking.”

Sam hesitated for a minute, like he always did, but he surprised himself by saying, “Yeah, Dean, that sounds fun. What time do you want me to come over?”

Sam could almost see Dean shrugging in response to that question, and sure enough, he answered, “Doesn’t matter much, Sammy. I think we’re gonna eat around seven, ‘cause that’s when the game is on.”

“All right,” Sam said. “Anything I can bring?”

Dean laughed. “No. Didn’t we just mention how much you love cooking?”

“Shut up. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

A few hours later found Sam ringing Dean’s doorbell. Dean’s apartment was nicer than Sam’s, and on the other side of town, closer to the fire station. Victor opened the door.

“Sam,” he said smiling at him. Victor was never the type to be overly affectionate, but when he respected you, you knew it. “How are you?”

“Not too shabby,” Sam replied. “Yourself?”

Victor laughed. “Dean’s cooking tonight. I’m great. Come on in.”

Sam walked into Dean’s living room to find Jo and Benny already seated on the couch with a beer. Jo had her feet kicked up onto the coffee table, and they were arguing about the football game on TV. He waved at them, and made his way to the kitchen, where he found Dean getting a couple steaks ready to grill and Charlie chatting brightly. Sam greeted Charlie with a smile – Dean had known her since high school, and while she and Sam weren’t close, she was a familiar presence in his life.

“Hey Sam, how are you?” she asked him cheerfully. “Dean’s almost got the steaks ready to grill, and then I just need to toss the salad and get the bread out of the oven and we should be ready to go!”

“Sounds great,” Sam said. “Everything you two do in the kitchen is delicious. Way better than microwaving something.”

Although Dean was facing the counter, Sam could tell that he rolled his eyes. “Aw, c’mon, Sammy, don’t tell me you’re still eating that crap. A real steak is what you need.”  
Sam shrugged defensively. “Hey, sometimes I work late nights, and I don’t have time to cook.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dean had the steaks on a cutting board, and headed out to the balcony to grill them. “Steaks should be done in about fifteen, Charlie. Don’t burn the bread again.”

“I won’t!” She protested vehemently, but she winked at Sam. “I only did that once, you know,” she told him, and he laughed.

Halfway through dinner, loud beeping interrupted the conversation. Sam and Charlie were well familiar with the sound by now and neither of them blinked when Dean, Jo, Victor, and Benny took off, clumsily pulling their shoes on and swearing at each other on their way out the door, leaving dinner on the table.

“Well, it’s not like this is the first time,” Charlie said with a long-suffering sigh. “Come on. I’ll do rock, paper, scissors for who has to do the dishes.”

 

 

The next time Sam saw Kevin, it was Monday afternoon. The lunch rush was dying down, finally, and Sam ought to have been more thankful for the kind of people who needed and could afford more than one coffee a day, but he was tired and he was really starting to consider hiring a new person to cover the day shifts so he could retreat to the office and do paperwork instead of working such long days to get everything done. He was too tired for it to be only Monday.

He did some math in his head, trying to estimate whether or not he could do it while he was mixing a drink, and nearly added caramel syrup instead of chocolate, he was so distracted.

That was a trend, he thought, sighing internally. The distraction. Maybe it was time for him to take a vacation – yeah, right, as if he could afford that. Indulgently, he thought about the tropics for a moment. Hawaii abruptly had to vacate his thoughts when the door jingled and in walked Kevin Tran.

He looked less exhausted than he had on Friday, Sam noticed. Less tense, too. Sam smiled at him as he approached.

“Hey Kevin,” he greeted him warmly. “How’s the paper coming?”

Kevin actually grinned at him. “Pretty good,” he said. “You know, it’s a paper, so not so much fun. But it’s coming along. Thanks for the feedback, that really helped.”

“Sure thing,” Sam answered him easily. “Glad I could help. Can I get you anything?”

Kevin shrugged. “I mostly came by to say hi, and thank you.” He paused for a moment, fighting a small smile. “But I could never say no to a peanut butter cookie.” He gestured to the cookies in the display case.

Sam had quietly been testing a few cookie recipes with Ava, putting out a different type every day. He was hoping to expand his offerings to include some basic baked goods, but it was far more complicated than he had thought it would be, and he wanted to gauge customer interest before he hired another person to bake. So he was delighted that Kevin was interested.

“Sure,” he said, reaching under the counter. “Ava made these this morning, and they are to die for. I’m almost hoping they don’t sell, so I can have the leftovers. How about some tea, too? On the house.”

Kevin eyed him for a moment. “Only if you come sit with me,” he stipulated. “You look like you’ve been on your feet all day.

Sam smiled wryly. “I have,” he admitted. “But Andy should be in any minute to take over for the evening shift, so you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Awesome,” said Kevin, accepting the proffered tea and cookie. “I’ll be right over there,” - he pointed to the corner table – “and you come join me when you’ve got a minute.”

True to form, Andy was right on time, whistling cheerfully as he walked in. “Hey, Sam,” he said by way of greeting, waving to his boss before heading to the back to clock in and put on his apron.

“Guess that’s my cue,” said Sam, grinning at Kevin. “Hold on. I’ll be just a minute.”

A few minutes later, Sam emerged from the back of the shop, apron-free and looking marginally more relaxed. He quickly prepared a mug of tea for himself –Andy manning the register, now – and walked to the table Kevin was sitting at. After a languorous stretch, he sat down.

“So,” he said, taking the initiative to get the conversation going. “How are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve got that some things worked out on that paper. Thanks to you, of course.”

Sam waved him off. “Don’t mention it.”

“How are you?” Kevin asked in return, and Sam shrugged. “Been busy around here, which I guess is a good thing, but I’m getting a little run down. Wishing I could afford to take off for a week and go to Hawaii or something, y’know?”

Kevin laughed. “I’ve never been to Hawaii. Can’t afford it either, so that makes two of us, I guess. But really, if you could go anywhere in the world, you’d pick Hawaii?”

Sam had to consider this for a moment. “No.... “ he said slowly. “It’d have to be somewhere in Europe, I think. Greece, maybe? I dunno.”

“Mm, good choice,” agreed Kevin, sipping his drink. “Architecture, interesting mythology, and beautiful beaches. Can’t go wrong.”

“You probably can, though,” said Sam, laughing. “There’re probably cockroaches or something. What about you? Where would you go?”

“Tough one.” Kevin was silent for a moment, weighing his options. “Italy, I think. I mean...Rome, Florence, Venice? Do I need to say anything else?”

“Not really,” Sam agreed. “So now that we’ve got our wishful thinking caps on about going places and having time off, I’ve been thinking about hiring another person. You know, so I can get paperwork-y things done.”

“Paperwork is important.” Kevin nodded. “Are you seriously thinking about it or is it just wishful thinking? You look like you could use an extra set of hands.”

“I don’t know. Right now, just wishful thinking, but I’ve been trying to figure out if I can afford it. I’ve been having to do paperwork on my own time.”

Kevin frowned. “That’s no good. No wonder you look so tired.”

“Yeah, well. Do you like the cookie?”

Kevin had been nibbling on it sporadically throughout the conversation, and now he smiled at Sam. “Love it. Peanut butter is my favorite, and it’s chewy. None of that brittle cookie bullshit.”

“Awesome,” Sam declared. “I’ve been thinking of trying to expand my offerings. You know, include some baked goods and stuff, too. I’d have to hire a baker, though, so we’ve been testing recipes one at a time, to see if they’ll sell, you know? I’ve got all the licensing to do it, and the facilities, just not the staff.”

“You should totally do that,” said Kevin enthusiastically. “If the rest of your cookies are anything like these, you’ll do great.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” commented Sam gratefully.

“Really though, I might have to become a regular if you start selling these cookies,” added Kevin.

“Oh no, that would be awful,” Sam teased, and Kevin swatted at his hand from across the table. They froze for a moment, both surprised by the contact, before separating again. It only lasted for an instant.

“Well,” said Kevin reluctantly, sliding his chair away from the table and standing up, “I hate to say it, but I’ve got a final to get to.” He pulled a disgusted looking face, and Sam chuckled and stood up as well.

“Good luck with that,” he said, half snarky and half serious. Kevin shrugged.

“It’s an easy class,” he explained. “I’ll do fine.”

There was an awkward silence while Kevin seemed to be mulling something over. He fumbled around in his pocket for the receipt from his tea, and fished a pen out of his backpack. He quickly scrawled something on the paper before shoving it at Sam.

“Here,” he said, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “In case you, uh, want it for anything.”

Without another word, Kevin turned on his heel and walked out of the store, giving Sam a little wave as he passed by the storefront on his way to class. Sam stared at him, dumbstruck, and then looked back at the receipt on which he had written his phone number.

 

 

The next few days, Sam was busy. That was what he told himself, when he thought about Kevin’s phone number, which he had typed into his phone and then pinned to the bulletin board in his office for safekeeping. It was even true – after painstakingly reviewing his finances and consulting Andy and Ava, he’d decided it was time to do some hiring. For now, he just wanted to get another barista on board to lighten his workload, although the possibility of hiring a baker wasn’t far off in his mind.

He’d put out ads in the paper and online, and the response was fairly overwhelming. He now had a stack of resumes on his desk. At eight o’clock on Thursday night – when he had finally escaped the shop, leaving Andy to close while he retreated upstairs – he was finally digging into them. It was a daunting task. He put it off for a few minutes, toying with his phone and the possibility of calling Kevin. This would be so much more pleasant with company.

So he did. The phone rang a few times, with Sam holding his breath, before Kevin picked up. “Hello?” he answered.

“Hi Kevin, this is Sam. You know, from the coffee shop.” He laughed nervously. This was so, so stupid.

“Oh, hey, how are you?”

“Good. How did your exams go?” Sam asked. He hadn’t forgotten that they were this week.

Kevin sighed gustily into the phone. “Okay. I think. I hope.”

“And the paper?” Sam pressed. At that, Kevin groaned.

“Due tomorrow,” he said, sounding desperate. “I’ve been staring at it for so long, I’m not sure which way is up anymore.”

“How about this,” said Sam slowly. “You come over. I provide peanut butter cookies. I’ll read your paper, and while I do, you can help me sort through some resumes.”

“Oh, you decided to hire?” Kevin exclaimed. “Great. Uh... sure. Sounds good. I’ll bring take out?”

“Only if you let me split with you,” agreed Sam.

“Deal,” said Kevin. “Chinese okay?”

“Chinese is great. Surprise me.... I like everything.”

“Awesome. See you in half an hour.”

Soon enough, Kevin was sprawled out on Sam’s living room carpet, reading resumes with an absurd – and adorable – level of concentration. He’d started two piles – Sam assumed they were “to interview” and “not.” The take out was long since gone, Kevin having astounded Sam with his ability to eat like a horse. Between the two of them, there were no leftovers. Sam, for his part, had printed out a copy of Kevin’s paper and was poring over it with an obnoxiously bright green pen. He wasn’t finding many things to comment on, so he found himself periodically becoming bored and glancing over at Kevin instead.

Kevin slapped the last sheet of paper onto a pile with a sense of finality.

“I’m done,” he announced triumphantly. “Are you?”

“Almost,” answered Sam, running a hand through his hair distractedly. “I’ve just got one more page to look at but really, it’s in pretty great shape, Kevin. I can tell you spent a lot of time working on it.”

“Thanks,” replied Kevin, blushing a little. “I’ve been working on it for ages, so you’re right about that.”

Silence fell as Sam scanned the last page, marking a few things, before he stood up and presented it to Kevin with a flourish. “Done,” he proclaimed, grinning. “I think this calls for ice cream, does it not?”

Kevin agreed that it did, and to Sam’s delight they found that they were both mint chocolate chip kind of guys (which was fortunate, because that was the only kind of ice cream that Sam had.) They dished up and sat on the couch, Sam propping his feet up on the coffee table as was his custom.

“So,” he asked in between bites, “What’s the scoop on the resumes? Anybody good?”

Kevin shrugged. “A few people with experience, most of them are college students. Nothing too exciting, but there’s definitely some people you should interview. I automatically ruled out anyone with poor spelling, grammar, or taste in resume formatting.”

Sam laughed. “Poor taste is definitely a deal breaker,” he agreed. “Cool. Thanks, Kevin, that should save me some work. I’ll schedule some interviews tomorrow, I guess.” He pulled a face. Interviewing people was a drag, he knew, but it would really be worth it to get someone else on board.

“Don’t mention it,” said Kevin, leaning back into the pillows and sighing.

“So what are you gonna do with your newfound freedom once you turn this paper in?” Sam asked him, curious. “What does a guy like you do in your free time, anyways?”

“For a start, I’m going to sleep for about a week,” muttered Kevin, smiling wryly. “I dunno. Catch up on some reading. Wipe the dust off my cello.”

“You play the cello?” Sam raised his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s really cool. I tried to learn guitar, and that was too hard. Cello looks way harder.”

“You get the hang of it, I guess,” said Kevin, shrugging. “Do you play any instruments?”

“No... I wish.”

Sighing, Kevin stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders back to ease some of the tension. “Guess I’d better get going,” he said regretfully. “I still have to make those final changes to my paper, and I don’t wanna be up too late if I can avoid it.”

“Good call,” agreed Sam, standing as well. “Thanks for your help man, I really appreciate it.”

“No, thanks for your help,” countered Kevin. “Seriously, I thought I was going to go cross-eyed if I looked at that paper for another minute. You’re a lifesaver.”

There was an awkward pause before Sam opened his mouth, gathering his courage, and said, “Do you wanna get together this weekend? Dinner, or something? We ought to celebrate, you know?”

“Sure!” Kevin beamed at him. “Tomorrow night, or Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Sam decided. “I’ll be working tomorrow, probably late again since I’ve got those interviews to deal with.”

“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Kevin. He collected his backpack from where he’d left it by the door, hoisting it up onto his shoulder. “See you later, Sam!”

 

 

The next day, Sam spent a miserable afternoon making phone calls. That was a tedious chore at best, but at worst, he was listening to strange answering machine recordings, dialing the wrong number, and finding strange people on the other end. There were a few whose names he marked with a small dash immediately after getting off of the phone with them – to remind him that they were probably not hire material. There was one kid in particular – Jake, his name had been – who had been particularly astounding. He’d answered the phone drunk and asked if Sam was soliciting him for sex. And that was at only four o’clock in the afternoon, thought Sam, shaking his head. Definitely a no-hire on that one.

But for the most part, it had all gone fine, and for those who had picked up the phone, he’d scheduled their interviews for next week. He’d have to ask Andy to cover for him part of the time, but he though the scheduling would work out okay, especially now that finals week was over and Andy was on vacation. He wouldn’t mind getting paid extra for the overtime, of that much Sam was certain.

Sam glanced at the clock, trying his best not to fidget. Not too many people were out for coffee on Friday nights, and things were even slower than usual now that the college kids weren’t in class anymore. He was bored, to be frank. So he pulled out his phone and texted Kevin. He reasoned that figuring out the details of their – well, date, he supposed – was a productive thing to do that would counter his boredom.

>>Hey Kevin, how are you?

He twirled his phone in his hands and waited impatiently for the response. When it finally came, he was helping a customer and had to wait until they’d taken their drink and left, to his frustration.

>>I’m good, how are you?

Sam answered immediately.

>>Great, thanks. Slow day. Just wanting to plan for tomorrow?

The second time, Kevin answered more promptly and it gave Sam the distraction he needed from watching the second hand travel around the clock. He could be cleaning, or something, he thought, but he didn’t feel like it. It was Friday night, and he had a date to plan.

>>Oh, yeah. Dinner, right?

>>Definitely. Pick you up at 7?

A few minutes passed before Kevin answered him and Sam wanted to kick himself for being so impatient. It’d been too long since he’d gone out with anyone besides Dean and his buddies, even on a friendly basis, he decided.

>>Actually, I know this place that’s within walking distance of the shop. Thought we might meet there. Know the Roadhouse?

Sam was impressed by Kevin’s taste. He knew the Roadhouse, of course, but for a date he’d been expecting Kevin to go for something a little more...well, maybe a little less greasy burgers. But he definitely approved. In fact, it made him feel more at ease about the whole date thing.

>>Sounds great, meet you there at 7 then

>>Great! See you tomorrow

Reluctantly, Sam put his phone away, knowing that signaled the end of the conversation. Besides, he chided himself. He was at _work_.

As predicted, he got home late. He closed down the shop later than usual thanks to one stubborn customer who was just - _almost done with her drink_ \- and he was in a suitably foul mood by the time he got upstairs despite looking forward to his plans for tomorrow.

He put a pizza in the oven and settled down on the couch, flipping on the TV and browsing through Netflix for something to watch. He wasn’t in the mood for anything too sad or intense, but rather preferred something familiar – so he went with the age old Star Wars. It didn’t matter how many times he’d seen it, or how much Dean insisted that Star Trek was better.

He was just fishing the pizza out of the oven when the phone rang. Sam tried to hold the phone to his ear with one hand and the pizza with the other, and nearly dropped the whole thing. As a result, he completely snapped at the person on the other end of the line without even knowing who it was.

“Whoa, touchy,” answered Dean. “Jeez, what crawled up your ass and died, little bro?”

“Sorry,” Sam said breathlessly. He did feel bad. “Just had my hands full.”

“Can you talk? Is this a bad time?” Dean asked, and Sam shrugged in response before he remembered that Dean couldn’t see it.

“Nah,” he replied belatedly. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

“Oh, not a whole lot, you know, the usual,” said Dean nonchalantly. “Was thinking about having a barbecue tomorrow night at the apartment. You know, with all the usuals. Wanna come?”

“Nah, not this time Dean, I don’t think so,” said Sam stiffly. He does, in fact, have other plans, but he hadn’t yet considered how to breach this topic with Dean.

“Oh.” Dean sounded disappointed, and Sam winced. “Are you sure? You’ve gotta eat something other than salad, you know.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he answered.

Dean’s tone changed to concerned. “Are you okay, Sammy?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” muttered Sam instantly. “I mean, it’s just that I already have plans tomorrow night. Nothing’s wrong, Dean, I swear.”

“Oh ho, Sammy.” Sam could hear the satisfaction dripping off of Dean’s voice. “Plans tomorrow? Do I smell a date? I suppose that’s an acceptable reason to skip a barbecue at my house. Maybe. If she’s cute.”

Sam’s palms were sweating. He didn’t want to have this conversation right now. It was too new for his brother to tease him about it.

“I dunno if it’s really a date,” he said nervously. “We’re just... meeting. For dinner, you know?”

“Sounds like a date to me, bro,” said Dean cheerfully. “Good luck. I’ve gotta go make sure Charlie doesn’t burn the house down - _Charlie, I told you twenty minutes on that, not a goddamn half an hour_ \- sorry Sam, guess I’ve got my hands full here, too. Catch you later. And tell me how that date goes!”

Without even giving Sam a chance to respond, Dean hung up, apparently to deal with the impending fire at his apartment. The humor of a fireman having a fire in his own apartment didn’t escape Sam, and he smiled to himself as he kicked back on the couch with his pizzax. He’d gotten off easy with Dean. He’d tell him about Kevin, but on his own terms. And with that, he settled into Star Wars and stopped worrying about it.

At six o’clock on Saturday, Sam stood in front of his closet frowning at his shirts. He didn’t typically put too much thought into what he was wearing; as long as he was presentable for work, there was no reason to. It struck him just how long it’d been since he’d been on a date. Maybe he needed to go shopping.

He was deliberating between a green shirt and a blue shirt – button down, because this _was_ a date after all, but he firmly refused to tuck in his shirt no matter how much Jo insisted on it. The blue one was a nicer color, he thought, but maybe the green one would be more flattering. Giving up, Sam did eeny-meeny-miny-moe to decide and ended up in the blue shirt. Once he’d done up the buttons, he rolled up the sleeves for comfort and picked his best jeans to go with it.

Appraising his appearance in the mirror, he decided he didn’t look half bad. A breath mint and a quick swipe of deodorant later, and he was on his way out the door.

Walking to a date made him feel like he was sixteen again, in high school and walking to his first date because Dean was using the Impala. It was only a few blocks from the coffee shop to the Roadhouse, but his nerves made it feel like much longer.

The Roadhouse wasn’t the fanciest restaurant on the block, by far; the paint was peeling a little and the windows could stand to be cleaned, but it was brightly lit and comfortable and had a homey atmosphere that Sam hadn’t encountered in any other restaurant. It probably helped that he’d known Ellen, the owner, for most of his life. He wondered how Kevin knew the Roadhouse. It was the kind of restaurant that had more regulars than people trying it out.

He pulled open the worn wooden door and a bell jangled overhead. Surveying the restaurant quickly, he spotted Kevin in the corner booth. Ellen waved from behind the bar.

“Well hey there Sam,” she greeted him warmly. “Been a while since I’ve seen you. What brings you here? The usual?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Uh, actually,” he explained awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m meeting someone here.”

Ellen raised her eyebrows and followed Sam’s glance to the corner booth. Kevin was watching their exchange curiously and Sam gave him a little wave before turning back to Ellen.

“I see,” she said mildly, but Sam could tell she was stifling her interest. “I’ll send Jo out to get your order in a few minutes.”

“Aw man, Jo’s here?” Sam almost whined. “She’s gonna tease me and gossip to Dean. That’s not fair, Ellen.”

“Shush,” replied Ellen. “Don’t you worry about that. Just get your ass over there before he leaves.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Sam made his way over to Kevin.

Kevin looked fantastic. He was dressed simply, like Sam – a white Henley over nice dark jeans. Sam swallowed hard.

“Hey,” he greeted him and then, fumbling a little, slid into the booth across from him. “How are you?”

“Pretty good,” answered Kevin, smiling at him. “A little – well, a lot – less stressed now that finals week is over.” He looks Sam over for a minute. “You look great. How are you?”

“Not too bad.” Sam leaned his elbows on the table. “How do you know about this place?” he asked. “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid, and it’s pretty...well, off the beaten trail.”

“I heard that,” said Ellen as she approached their table with menus in hand. “I’m Ellen.” She extended her free hand to Kevin and he shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’ve known Sam since... well, for entirely way too long.” Sam stuck his tongue out at her and she swatted him.

“I’m Kevin,” he responded. “And to answer your question, Sam, I.... well, I asked around a little. I wanted to know where the best burgers in town were.” He sent Ellen a winning smile and she handed him his menu smartly.

“You just let me know when you know what you want, okay?” she said, winking at Sam before she went back to the bar.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Sorry about her,” he joked. “She’s a friend of the family. She changed my diapers and she makes sure I know it.”

Kevin snorted. “Yeah, I know the type.” They were silent for a moment.

“So.” Sam broke the silence. “Do you know what you want to eat?”

Kevin thought about it for a moment. “Any recommendations?”

Sam shrugged. “I always just get a cheeseburger.” As an afterthought, he added, “Don’t tell Dean.”

“Who’s Dean?” Kevin asked. “Brother?”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, and he eats cheeseburgers like they’re candy. I always lecture him about eating some salad for once in his life. If he knew that this was my regular order he’d make fun of me for days.”

Kevin snorted. “Well, I might try the guacamole bacon burger. Sounds pretty good.”

“Just about everything Ellen makes is good, I’m pretty sure,” Sam said. “You’re in good hands with her.”

“Sure are.” Ellen had returned to take their orders. Apparently, she’d decided to spare Sam the teasing he could have expected from Jo. She winked at Sam when he ordered his usual and actually bothered to write Kevin’s order down.

“You got it boys,” she told them. I’ll be back soon.”

True to her word, the food is excellent and Kevin said so – several times. Sam was quietly pleased that he liked Sam’s favorite haunt as much as Sam did.

When they left, Sam walked Kevin back to his apartment, mostly as an excuse to stay with him for a little longer. Kevin lived in a pretty typical college apartment; nothing too special and a little beat up, but in a decent part of town close to campus (and the coffee shop, of course).

“Well, this is it,” Kevin announced as they reached his door. He turned to look at Sam.

“Well,” said Sam, toying with his belt loops. He took a step towards Kevin and gestured awkwardly. “Um,” he started. “Can I?”

Kevin laughed. “You’re such a gentleman, Sam,” he replied as he stepped forward and kissed Sam himself.

“We should do that again sometime,” he said softly. Sam was overwhelmed by his proximity and could only nod and smile. They kissed one more time, just a gentle thing, before separating.

“Good night, Kevin,” said Sam fondly, and Kevin waved before closing the apartment door behind him.

 

 

Sam felt pretty good about their first date, and he was thrilled when Kevin texted him a couple days later to schedule a second. He took his time replying; he wanted to suggest something this time, but they’d already been to the Roadhouse and Sam was out of ideas.

He considered consulting Charlie, but couldn’t bring himself to hit call. She would have had some great ideas – she and Dean were always out and about - but something stopped him. He examined it briefly and decided that it was because he was still tentative about this relationship. Not to say he wasn’t happy about it; he simply didn’t want to share it with anyone else just yet. It was too new. That was fine, for now, Sam decided.

It was Friday and he’d managed to fob the evening shift off onto the new hire, Lily. She hadn’t sounded thrilled about it, and part of Sam felt bad for asking her, but he finally had something going on in his personal life and he was going to be a little bit selfish about it.

The sun was shining, one of the first truly beautiful days they’d had so far this year, and Sam impulsively pulled out his phone to text Kevin. They’d made plans to go to some Mexican place that Dean had raved about a few weeks ago, but now Sam had a better idea.

>>Hey Kevin. Wanna skip the Mexican and get ice cream?

Kevin replied promptly, like he usually did.

>>Ice cream for dinner? I’m in.

>>This place is a little farther away. Pick you up at 7?

>>Sure.

Sam scrambled to find his cleanest, most presentable t-shirt, paired it with his favorite Stanford hoodie, and rushed downstairs to clean out his car. He hurriedly swept fast food wrappers and other debris into a garbage bag, lamenting that he didn’t have the time to vacuum it.

At 7:01, Sham shifted his car into park outside Kevin’s apartment. He breathed a sigh of relief; right on time.

A tap on the window made him jump, and when he turned to look, Kevin was waving at him from the passenger side and pointing at the door lock. Embarrassed, Sam grinned at him and unlocked the door. Kevin slid into the passenger seat and leaned over to kiss him briefly.

“Hey, Sam,” he said, smiling.

“Hey.” Sam looked for his hand and squeezed it. “How are you?”

“Great,” answered Kevin. “Dying for some ice cream, to be honest.”

“What are we waiting for, then?”

The little ice cream shop was a favorite in the town, particularly among the college crowd, and Sam suspected that Kevin already knew of the place. It didn’t matter. As expected on a sunny Friday evening, the place was packed. Sam and Kevin quickly gave up on conversation in the tiny, crowded shop and instead just waited their turn to place their orders. Sam ordered his usual mint chocolate chip; Kevin got adventurous and ordered a coffee flavored ice cream, much to Sam’s amusement.

“You’ll have to let me try that,” murmured Sam as they made their way out of the shop and outside to find a table.

They were just sitting down at a table near the street, one of the farthest away from the shop, when Sam’s phone rang. He winced – he’d meant to put it on silent, because he knew that it was bad date etiquette to take a phone call, but Kevin waved it off.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered. Sam mouthed “Thanks” at him as he fished his phone out of his pocket and answered it.

“Hello – _what?_ ” Sam exclaimed, horrified. He dropped his ice cream, and it splattered all over the table. “Where is he? Is he okay?” A pause. “I’m on my way.”

“Sam.” It registered that Kevin was trying to get his attention, and Sam turned to look at him but couldn’t come up with anything to say. He was reeling. Instead, he pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, bracing his hands on it.

“I’m,” he started, clearing his throat. “I’m really sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

“Hold up.” Kevin stood up too. “You’re in no state to be driving, Sam. Wherever we’re going, I’ll come with you. Or at least take you there, or something.”

“No, Kevin, I –“ Sam objected, but then saw the logic in what Kevin was saying. “Okay,” he agreed. “Look, I’m really sorry about this, it’s just –“

“Tell me in the car,” said Kevin, already gathering his jacket and putting his hand on Sam’s arm to herd them towards his beat up Honda Civic.

“Keys,” directed Kevin, and Sam handed them to him numbly. He slid into the passenger seat of his own vehicle – which was certainly weird- and listened to the ignition starting. Kevin pulled out of the parking lot carefully, but his driving was all business once they hit the road.

The radio was playing some godawful pop song and Kevin turned it down.

“Okay, Sam,” he said calmly. “Tell me where I’m going.”

“The hospital,” croaked Sam. Kevin shot him a brief sympathetic look, but didn’t comment. Instead he focused for the moment on his driving.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Kevin asked abruptly. When Sam opened his mouth to answer, he quickly added, “You don’t have to. It’s cool. I just... want to do anything I can.”

Sam was silent for a moment, trying to find it in him to put words to what had happened.

“Uh,” he mumbled. “It’s my brother. Dean. He was in a car accident....with a drunk driver, they said. All they could really tell me is that he needed enough medical attention to go to a hospital.” He choked on the last sentence.

Kevin didn’t say anything, but started driving slightly faster. The drive to the hospital seemed both very long and very short; Sam recognized, as though he were observing someone else, that he was in a state of emotional shock over what had happened, but it all seemed very surreal to him.

When they arrived, Kevin pulled into the first available parking space, slamming the car into a stop. He got out, and while Sam fumbled with his seatbelt, crossed around to the other side of the car and opened Sam’s door for him. Sam scrambled out of the car and Kevin stopped him for a minute.

“Sam,” he asked seriously. “Do you want me to come in with you? It’s up to you.”

Sam nodded mutely, not sure of anything right then but that he didn’t want to be alone. Kevin accepted that as an answer and they quickly crossed the parking lot and entered the hospital.

Sam had only been here a handful of times before, and none of them were happy memories. He pushed down his nausea as they approached the front desk.

“I’m here for Dean Winchester,” he said to the receptionist, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice.

“What’s your relation to him, hon?” she asked. She was a middle aged woman with a warm look about her, and Sam knew that she probably saw people in this kind of situation all the time.

“He’s my brother,” said Sam thickly, and she nodded. She tapped a few keys on her keyboard, looking something up before she answered him.

“He’s in surgery right now, but I’ll show you to a waiting room,” she said, and Sam nodded and followed her. Kevin tagged along uncertainly.

The room she showed them to looked just like every other room in the hospital; plain white, chairs covered in ugly fabric, and strange abstract art on the walls. The chairs were uncomfortable, Sam noted absently as he sank into one. Kevin sat next to him in silence.

A short while later, an official looking person came and briefed them on the accident. As it turned out, Dean had been hit by a drunk driver on the outskirts of town when the man had tried to pass him and had to abort as another car approached in the other lane. He couldn’t say anything official about Dean’s condition, but he’d been stable and conscious when he’d arrived at the hospital and he was currently in surgery because they were operating on a broken leg.

Sam nodded along to everything he said and shook his hand and thanked him numbly when he left. Kevin didn’t try to initiate conversation, something for which Sam was immensely grateful. Instead, they sat in adjacent chairs in silence. Kevin was sitting so that his shoulder was touching Sam’s, and the light contact was infinitely reassuring. It reminded Sam that he wasn’t alone.

At one point, Kevin disappeared from his side and came back a few minutes later with a travel cup full of what Sam discovered was tea. He accepted it silently and drank it in small sips, nearly burning his tongue on the first one.

Time passed by at a crawl. Sam was almost dozing off despite the overbearing tension when someone in hospital scrubs approached them. Kevin nudged him and Sam started, surprised.

“Are you Mr. Winchester?” asked the orderly. He was a young man with dark hair; he didn’t look any older than Sam.

“Yes,” Sam replied, clearing his throat.

“I’m here about Dean.” He paused for a moment, but when Sam didn’t reply, he continued. “Good news. His surgery went well. He’s awake, and asking to see you. He’s still a little woozy, but if you’d like –“

Sam stood and turned to follow the man. Kevin rested a hand on his arm and opened his mouth, presumably to excuse himself from intruding. Sam stopped him.

“Don’t leave yet,” he asked quietly. “Please?”

“Okay,” agreed Kevin, and followed him.

“Heya, Sammy.”

Some things didn’t change. Dean was lying in a hospital bed with a huge cast on his leg, looking fairly beat to hell, and grinning at Sam like the circus had just come to town.

“Hey, Dean.” Sam spoke quietly and went to sit in the chair next to the bed. Kevin hung back in the doorway and noticed how Sam gripped Dean’s hand and Dean squeezed back, despite the apparently humorous mood he was in.

“Who’s this?” Dean asked, leaning up in bed and craning his neck to get a good look at Kevin, who waved shyly in response.

“My name’s –“

“Dean, this is –“

Sam and Kevin exchanged a glance, embarrassed, and Dean laughed heartily.

“I’m Kevin,” he introduced himself, and stepped forward to shake Dean’s hand. It was a little awkward given the current height difference, but Dean went with it.

“He’s got manners, Sammy. I like him.” Dean looked back and forth between the two of them and started laughing. “Oh my god. You two were on a date, weren’t you?”

Sam let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Dean,” he said in an overly patient tone of voice. “Congratulations, you figured it out. Happy now?”

“Very,” responded Dean. He chuckled again. “Sorry to interrupt you boys.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Sam instantly.

“So Sam, tell me –“

Sam and Kevin both were spared the impending interrogation by the arrival of more people into the small room. It got very crowded very quickly, and Sam inventoried the new arrivals – Benny and Victor and Jo and Charlie had all shown up together. The firefighters in the group had clearly come straight from the scene, and Charlie was wearing plaid pajama pants. They gathered around him, chattering loudly. Sam made quick introductions, and no one asked any awkward questions.

“So tell me, brother, what did you think you were doing, getting yourself in a car wreck?” rumbled Benny with a mock disapproving glance. “We all had to quit our game of poker, you know.”

Dean laughed. “Sorry to be an inconvenience, Benny, but it wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Jo butted in. “Sorry it took us so long to get here. Lot of cleanup to do after that. We all responded to the scene, you know. Gave me the fright of my life, you asshole. But it’s good to see you walkin’ and – well, just talkin’.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Dean pouted, earning himself a friendly – and uncharacteristically gentle – thump on the shoulder from Victor.

“What do you mean, don’t rub it in?” Victor said exasperatedly. “We all know you’re gonna have us waiting on you like a princess until you’re fit to use crutches.”

Dean brightened considerably at this. “Oh, you shouldn’t be giving me ideas, Victor,” he said mischievously. That earned Victor a shove and a glare from Jo.

Charlie, on the other hand, perched herself on the edge of Dean’s bed and hugged him as best she could. She planted a big fat kiss on his cheek and muttered, “Don’t you do that again, Dean Winchester. It’s bad for my health.”

“Aw, don’t worry, Charlie,” he replied, putting a hand on her back and playing with her hair. She glared at him, but didn’t do a very convincing job of being angry with him.

The group stayed to chat for a while, but when Dean started getting sleepy they excused themselves, claiming that they had to work tomorrow and it’d be even more work without his lazy ass on board.

“Sure,” muttered Dean. “It’s not that late, you assholes. I am not tired.” Sam chuckled; he was clearly fighting hard not to drift off.

Dean was dozing and Sam and Kevin were about ready to leave him to it when a frazzled looking Cas swept into his room.

“Sam,” he said by way of greeting. “Hello.” He looked over to Dean and his shoulders slumped. “He’s sleeping? I just got off shift, this is the earliest I could come by –“ he’d lowered his voice, but Dean was waking up anyways, muttering grumpily like he always did.

“Shit.” Cas was downright mortified.

“Hey, ‘s that Cas?” Dean asked groggily. Cas made his way to the now empty chair and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked beat, Sam thought.

“Hey,” said Cas softly. “ Sorry to wake you. You look a lot better than you did the last time I saw you.”

“Aw, you rode with me in the ambulance? That’s sweet of you, Cas.”

Dean earned himself a glare. “That’s my job, you dumbass. And I prefer it when my job doesn’t include scraping you off the road.”

“Man, everyone’s so touchy about that,” Dean muttered. Cas rolled his eyes.

“So how’re you feeling?” Cas changed the subject, and this time it was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Peachy, just peachy. You know. Like I got in a car crash and broke myself.”

Sam inched towards the door and caught Kevin’s eye, gesturing that they should probably leave. Once they’d slipped out the door, Sam laughed.

“It’s best to leave those two to it sometimes,” he explained to Kevin. “Cas is a great guy, and they’ve been friends forever, but man, they can really get after each other sometimes.”

“So, he’s a paramedic, right?” Kevin asked. “Just.... based on what he said.”

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “He and his sister Anna went into EMT training together. Dean dated Anna once, and it didn’t work out... but his brother stuck.”

“Dean’s friends seem like pretty nice people,” said Kevin quietly. Sam laughed. “Yeah, they are. They can be a little overwhelming sometimes, though. Sorry you had to meet them in a circumstance like that. Although I guess inviting you over to dinner wouldn’t have been much better. They’re _always_ overbearing.”

“Oh well, there’s plenty of time for that.” Kevin shrugged, then glanced at Sam. “Right?”

“Yeah.”

 

 

Dean went home from the hospital a few days later, wheelchair-bound and cheerfully giving everyone hell. Sam steered clear of his apartment for a few days after the initial welcome home, but Dean was feeling better and Sam figured it was about time he introduced him properly. It just didn’t count when Dean was high on painkillers the first time around.

So he and Kevin drove to Dean’s apartment. There was a tension in the air that wasn’t usually present between them, and it occurred to Sam that Kevin was _anxious_ about meeting his big brother. The corner of Sam’s mouth turned up at the thought, and Kevin looked at him suspiciously.

“What are you smiling at?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Sam replied, smiling even more widely. Kevin rolled his eyes.

Sam pulled his car into the parking lot at Dean’s apartment and found one of the unreserved spots to park in.

When he knocked on the door, there wasn’t an answer right away. Sam frowned. He hadn’t told Dean he was coming, but it had been a pretty safe assumption that Dean wasn’t going anywhere and surely he couldn’t be sleeping at one o’clock in the afternoon.

Just as Sam and Kevin were turning to leave, the door opened and Sam found himself face to face with Cas. He hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“Hello, Sam,” said Cas. “Kevin.” He stepped back and swung the door open. “Come in. I don’t think Dean was expecting you but, ah... he can deal with it.”

“Of course he can,” replied Sam, stepping into the apartment. Dean was propped up on the couch, his injured leg stretched out in front of him. Sam noticed that the TV wasn’t on, then that Dean wasn’t holding a book or anything else to do, and then that there was a certain tension in the air, as though they’d.... walked into something.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I, Dean?” Sam asked, grinning widely. He knew he’d hit the jackpot when Dean blushed – actually _blushed_ \- and Sam burst out laughing.

“You didn’t interrupt anything that we can’t finish once you’ve left, Sam,” interrupted Cas with a completely straight face. Kevin tried to suppress his laughter and failed miserably, and soon the four of them were collapsed against various pieces of furniture, unable to contain themselves.

“Well,” said Dean when the ruckus had died down. “I guess we got the awkward part of that conversation out of the way real fast.”

“I guess so,” agreed Sam, wiping his eyes. “While we’re at it, I’d like to introduce you to Kevin.”

“I’m pretty sure we met,” said Dean, eyeing Kevin’s outstretched hand.

“You did,” Kevin assured him earnestly. “You were just too high too remember it.” Sam snorted, and Dean looked disgruntled.

“Great,” he muttered. “What else happened while I was high?”

“Oh, nothing worth mentioning,” said Kevin, prompting a snicker from Cas.

They stayed for dinner – or, more accurately, they stayed for Cas cooking while Dean shouted directions at him from the couch. Every other word was an obscenity, but Cas stubbornly refused help from either Sam or Kevin, much to their amusement.

They didn’t make it back to Sam’s apartment until it was late and they were both a little tipsy. Dean had insisted they take a cab. Cas had forbidden him from drinking anything alcoholic, which had sent him into a dangerous pout.

“I like your family,” Kevin mumbled from where he was leaned up against Sam’s shoulder. They had made it to the couch and then sprawled all over it, and each other.

“You only met my brother,” Sam pointed out sleepily. “And his boyfriend, or whatever.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kevin argued, stretching luxuriously and wiggling until he could rest his face on Sam’s chest. “I met Benny and Victor and Jo and Charlie, too.”

“Yeah, I guess they are kind of family, aren’t they?” Sam mused. “God knows they’re around often enough.”

“Mm,” agreed Kevin. He paused for a moment, then announced, “I hope you aren’t expecting me to get up anytime soon. It’s just not gonna happen.”

Sam chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “I suppose you don’t have to. I mean, I _suppose_ I can put up with that, since you asked so nicely.”

“Shut up,” Kevin moaned. “Come _on_.”

They lounged like that for a while in a comfortable silence. Eventually Sam started drifting off – he thought Kevin might already be asleep, but he couldn’t be sure. It was tempting to just stay there and bask in this kind of intimacy with another human, but Sam had a better idea.

“Kevin,” he whispered, jabbing Kevin’s ribs with his fingers. “Kevin. Wake up.”

“Fuck you.” That startled a laugh from Sam, and the movement of his torso jostled Kevin further.

“Sam, _why_?” he whined, glaring up at Sam through his bangs. Sam grinned at him.

“Come on, wake up,” he said, starting to sit up and shifting Kevin onto his lap. “There are better places to sleep in this house than the damn couch, you hear me?”

“Fine,” grumbled Kevin. “But you’re carrying me.”

“So demanding,” said Sam mockingly. Kevin made an angry noise and Sam suspected that, had he been coherent, he might have shoved him. Sam scooped one arm up under Kevin’s knees and the other around his back, and carefully hoisted the both of them off the couch. It was more work than he’d anticipated – for all that he was quite a bit taller than Kevin, Kevin wasn’t a small guy.

Sam carefully pulled back the covers and settled Kevin onto the mattress. He immediately curled into it for warmth, and Sam quickly climbed in and pulled the comforter up around both of them against the still cold spring night.

“Good night Kevin,” he said into Kevin’s hair. He couldn’t even understand Kevin’s mangled response, but as he drifted off to sleep, he thought, _I could get used to this._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated. If you're interested in reading more of my work for this ship, it can be found at hollyhawke.tumblr.com/tagged/sevin.


End file.
